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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273566">White and Marble</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/pseuds/Trobadora'>Trobadora</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>L'Oréal "Time Engraver" Commercials</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2020 Commercial, Canon Divergence, Gen, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:49:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/pseuds/Trobadora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"To not age, you mustn't move," the Time Engraver tells her. "To not age, you mustn't be alive. Be a statue, and you'll be beautiful for all time."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yuletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>White and Marble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberbrain/gifts">cyberbrain</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to Sakana for beta-reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a face that lives behind the face of every clock. Wherever time passes - and that is everywhere - there is a hand that holds the tool that carves its traces, every wrinkle and line, age, erosion and fading. He is a sculptor, a carver, an engraver. </p><p>He touches everyone, knows every life; everyone is touched by him.</p><p>"You try to evade me," he tells the woman he is supposed to be working on today, "as if evading an enemy. But it's your own life you evade. It's a futile existence, that."</p><p>Her given name is Mei, and she is beautiful. She is perfectly still here in his studio, frozen in time - as still as she attempts to keep her features in life as well. And there is nothing on her face that his burin can touch, as if she were made of marble.</p><p>"Who taught you you must be beautiful? Who taught you you must be perfect? Try cosmetics instead," he advises. He selects the smallest of his tools, but even it can find no purchase on her implacable face. "They won't stop you from ageing, but they won't stop you from living either. If you must be futile, that's by far the better choice."</p><p>He waves his hand, skips through her life. There are a dozen, two, three dozen mirrors, all reflecting fractions of her life, and her face is the same in each. She has grown older - she is not thirteen any more - but even at thirteen she wouldn't let herself cry.</p><p>She stands out. She doesn't mean to. She doesn't fit in. </p><p><i>Don't show them how you feel,</i> her mother says. <i>Don't make yourself vulnerable.</i></p><p>"Dajie," says the Time Engraver, "you're more vulnerable like this. Have you looked at your life?"</p><p><i>You're so pretty,</i> her father says. <i>It's an asset. Don't you throw it away.</i></p><p>The Time Engraver rolls his eyes. "I don't think he meant to let it destroy you either." But perfection is one hell of a drug.</p><p><i>Deep breaths,</i> she teaches herself. <i>Let it all flow out of you. If you don't feel, you can't be hurt. If you're perfect, you can't be hurt.</i></p><p>"But you already know that isn't true. Does it hurt less if no one can see? In your heart, you're still crying, before you force it all away."</p><p>She is so still, here in his workshop and out there in the world. Is she frozen, is she not? Who can tell? Can she hear him now? "If you don't live, then how can your life be paused?"</p><p>The Time Engraver snaps his fingers. She remains marble-still. There is no expression on her face. </p><p>"To not age, you mustn't move," the Time Engraver tells her. "To not age, you mustn't be alive. Be a statue, and you'll be beautiful for all time. Is that what you wish? I can give it to you."</p><p>She turns her head. Turns on the spot, on top of the slab of stone where she stands. "These statues," she says. Her voice is as neutral as her face. "Is that what they are?"</p><p>"They could be. Who knows?" He grins at her. His eyes crinkle; he can see it in the mirror behind her. They're good crinkles too, very well made, if he does say so himself.</p><p>She steps down onto the tiles. Her heels click as she goes to stand before one of the busts, and she tilts her head at it like a bird. </p><p>He moves behind her, places his hands on her shoulders, turns her around. "One step back."</p><p>She lets him guide her into position next to the bust. "Here, try it out," the Time Engraver says. "Do nothing, just stand still. You won't even be bored."</p><p>She does hold still, like any statue. But there's a gleam in her eyes. In her heart, she may be cursing him out. He smirks, winks at her and turns away, snaps his fingers to summon another person for his burin to act upon.</p><p>She lasts - he counts - for five of his subjects.</p><p>"Why do you speak to them when they can't hear?"</p><p>When he turns to her, her expression is still again. <i>If I didn't see it, you didn't move? I like you, Meimei.</i> "They do hear me," he says, already turning back to his work, "subconsciously. Of course, they mostly don't listen. You never did."</p><p>"Why should they listen to your advice? You surround yourself with statues. With empty walls, empty frames, cold tiles. The warmest thing here is the light, and that comes from outside. Do <i>you</i> live?"</p><p>"When you speak," he tells her without turning, "you use your facial muscles. Your skin moves, and even crinkles. Shouldn't you be quiet, as well as still?"</p><p>She <i>is</i> quiet, for another two sessions' length. "You wear white. You surround yourself with white. You smile and you joke, but time doesn't touch you. Life passes you by. At least I had a boyfriend. I wear red lipstick. I tried."</p><p>He was right: she is full of things that want to be let out. She only needs to give herself leave.</p><p>What he says is, "Wrong."</p><p>"About what?" she challenges.</p><p>He turns and faces her again, sooner than he thought he would. "I age," he tells her. "I was born, just like you. I grow older, just like you, if slower. These crinkles," he gestures at his eyes, "are earned. One day I will die, and there will be someone new in this tower, wielding the burin of time."</p><p>She blinks, rapidly. "Isn't it cruel?"</p><p>"Cruel of me, to carve the texture of your life? Or cruel towards me, that this is my purpose?"</p><p>She thinks about it. Her still face shows nothing, but her eyes give her away. <i>It's always the eyes,</i> the Time Engraver thinks. If not this, here, it would be tears that broke her stillness, some day. </p><p>And as for cruelty? If the passing of time did not have a face, or a pair of hands to inscribe itself into skin, would that make it kinder? If his purpose were other than this - if he didn't have a purpose - would he be happier?</p><p>No, he thinks. He's not made to be like humans, whose only purpose in life is to be living. His work is like breathing; one day he will stop, but until then, he needs the air. </p><p>"You are alone," she says eventually. Slowly, considering. "Even more than I am, among people."</p><p>He <i>is</i> enjoying her company. She is a challenge, and an interesting one. Better: she finds him a challenge too, is analysing him, trying to find the cracks. Speaking to her was a good idea. "Are you offering to stay?" </p><p>She lowers her head briefly. She doesn't smile, but when she looks up again, the expression in her eyes is wry. "You were right," she says, "about speaking, and moving your face. You were right - I don't want to be a statue." She shakes her head. "Must time always win?"</p><p>"You lose nothing by being yourself. And time doesn't play for win or lose. It just is."</p><p>That bird-head tilt again, and for the blink of an eye, mischief is on her face. "But does time <i>play?</i>"</p><p>He raises both eyebrows, delighted. Faces her with his hands on his hips and a smile. "What did you have in mind?"</p><p>"I challenge you." She swallows. Her eyes are serious. "A smile for a colour. A tear for something new within these walls."</p><p>He bursts into a grin. "Accepted."</p><p>The Time Engraver snaps his fingers, returns her where she belongs.</p><p>He misses her already.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <hr/>
</div><p> </p><p>Lin Mei opens her eyes to rain. Grey street and grey sky, almost as monochrome as the Time Engraver's studio.</p><p>She'll find him again, this strange creature who's not quite human, and not quite ... not. And she'll see if he kept his bargain.</p><p>Something bubbles up from her chest, and for the first time since she was a child, she lets it. Her mouth twitches, moves in unaccustomed ways. But her body remembers, and soon she is grinning, head tilted up to the sky.</p><p>She feels the rain on her face, and she laughs.</p>
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